“There are satans in this world,” remarked the archdeacon.
“’Tis devilish badly done,” observed Gringoire.
The archdeacon resumed after a silence,—
“So, she saved your life?”
“Among my good friends the outcasts. A little more or a little less and I should have been hanged. They would have been sorry for it to-day.”
“Would not you like to do something for her?”
“I ask nothing better, Dom Claude; but what if I entangle myself in some villanous affair?”
“What matters it?”
“Bah! what matters it? You are good, master, that you are! I have two great works already begun.”
The priest smote his brow. In spite of the calm which he affected, a violent gesture betrayed his internal convulsions from time to time.